


inked.

by dykeula



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Possession, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s02e14 Born Under a Bad Sign, Fluff, Hurt Sam, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Queer Dean Winchester, Queer Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester-centric, Sam and dean get tattooed, Sam goes on a date, Season/Series 02, Talk of STDs, Tattoos, that's it that's the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 06:00:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20421077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dykeula/pseuds/dykeula
Summary: The story of how Sam and Dean got *that* particular body modification, after the Meg fiasco. Dean is overprotective. Sam gets much more than he paid for. And a tattoo artist in Sioux Falls gets his first ever satanist clients.





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> my credentials for the tattoo part of this story is that I have .... 6, 7? 8? tattoos myself. Honestly don't keep count. I also got one, albeit a small one, right where Sam and Dean got theirs. I don't really have that much boob muscle, but my tattooing process worked out fine. I'm also friends with a few tattoo artists (2, lol. 2 1/2).  
Also word of advice, if you ever go to a tattoo parlor where they say they can tattoo you that exact day (unless it's a walk in day): RUN. Those places are nasty

It had been a relatively slow day at work. Paco had so far drunk 4 cups of coffee, tattooed two chick‘s ankles, and ruined his back for the day. Doing these minimalist flowery type tatt‘s always seemed to take more of a toll on him than others, mentally and physically. It was good money, yeah, but it didn‘t really give him his fix of artistic freedom that he so desperately craved. They always came in with the standard "Go wild" attitude but then changed their minds real quick once Paco‘d gotten out his sketchbook. Then it was all "Oh, but not too big"‘s and "Can you do a flower inside a flower inside a face?"‘s. As if they were scared a future mother in law would scoff at their incredibly rebellious inked flower crown that would most likely be washed out in a couple years. Whatever, not like he could outright refuse them service if he didn‘t really feel like it. He may not feel like it, his wallet very much did. Rent for a tattoo parlor wasn‘t cheap, not even in the outskirts of Sioux Falls.

He missed the old school stuff. 2006 had been a hell year all around, including killing that particular trend for a few months.

He was already on his fifth cup of devil bean juice, pen in hand and currently sketching a very elaborate flash of the devil giving someone a bj, when the bell dinged with startling urgency. The lines were shaky, probably due to the 90% percentage of caffeine currently pumping through his veins, but honestly? He hoped his next customers had just enough of a "What the hell" attitude to go for it. Would certainly brighten up his day.

"Yelo?" he asked, his go to response, kicking back his chair and walking over to his next customer. Customer_ S _, actually, two guys slouched in front of the door who looked about ready to get the fuck outta there. Skittish, like they‘d just walked into hell blindfolded. Paco clapped his hands together. This would be fun.

It was a short angry looking blonde dude, not even trying to hide the dried blood stains on his shirt, with bruises on his face the size of Texas. Ouch. The other guy was barely noticeable, back in the corner, like a caged animal. Paco had the suspicion that he would run off if he‘d even so much as stared in his direction, so he didn‘t. No matter how much he wanted to, because from what he‘d seen? A snack. Just the right side of tortured looks and rugged appearance that Paco always found himself gravitating towards. Those two were either a couple or brothers, he found himself hoping for the latter.

"You the owner?" Short and angry said, scowl perfectly in place. Dude had noticed Paco‘s wandering eyes, and from his expression he seemed about ready to clock him one. Like an overprotective mom protecting his pub. '_ Just what I need‘', _ Paco thought. ' _ A couple rednecks and an expensive dentist bill. Just cleaned this floor, too.' _

"Uhhh, yeah? Who‘s askin‘?" Paco crossed his arms, swaying from side to side on his overused work boots that had a hole in the front. "You guys both wanna get inked?" '_ Stop being an asshole to the people trying to help you pay your bills,' _ he found an inner voice saying. Unfortunately for him, he had one of the worst cases of smart ass he‘d ever seen, absolutely lethal. Most times just barely constrained. It was one of the reasons business was so slow in the first fucking place. "You already looked through my flash book, or...?"

Grumpy dude coughed, fumbling with a folded paper in his hand. '_ Well, there goes my creative freedom. As long as it‘s not a heart design.‘' _"Already got a design, so no thanks. Not sure we even need you to begin with," he said, sounding like he was talking to someone else instead of the tattoo artist before him. That stung. 

He hoped this guy was ready to square the fuck up. "Excuse _ fucking _ me, you‘re the one in _ my _place, comin‘ over here-" 

Dude looked about ready to retort something else, but another voice cut him off. "Dean, don‘t," tall, dark and handsome said, from his position on the couch. Neither of them had noticed that he‘d started looking through Paco‘s flash designs attentively. Probably to avoid this conversation. Pretty boy‘s eyes were small but filled with all the bitchiness of a little brother. So that was settled then. „Bobby said this needed to be done right.“ Handsome took a chance to look in Paco‘s direction, their eyes settled on each other for a long, hot moment. Everything about his posture screamed ‚tired of this shit‘. Paco could relate. "I‘m not letting you stick ‘n poke me," he said, with just the right amount of playfulness.

The other dude, Dean, suddenly seemed all to apologetic. "Sorry. Just had a long day, is all..." He didn‘t buy it, but managed to swallow down his snarky remark. "You do big needle work? We‘ve got this design..."

Paco‘s mood brightened considerably, his fingers twitching for his machine. "Hells yeah, you‘ve come to the right place. How big? Placement? And just black ink or should I spice things up a little?"

Dean shook his head. "Just black. On both of our chests, and uhhh... Pretty big, right?" He seemed to contemplate it for a moment and then nodded, handing Paco his dirty sheet of paper. "Right. Think you could pull it off?"

Paco give him the side eye and looked at the his project for the day. It looked.... well. It looked manageable alright, all solid, bold lines and just the slightest sign of single needle work in the center. The scribbles in the center of the burning circle seemed to say something, some kind of deeper message, but he for the life of him couldn‘t decipher what. He‘d never seen that kind of language before. "This some kinda satanic symbol?" he asked, because if it was then even better. Or maybe they were in a gang.

"Uhh, no?" Dean lied, with all the confidence of a kid getting told not to play game boy in bed. Great. "Look, we ain‘t got all day. So if we could get this show on the road, that‘d be swell."

There he went again with that attitude. Paco‘s knuckles were phantom hurting. "What, you think you can just waltz in here and demand an appointment right this second? Does this look like a walk in studio to you?" he asked, offended and visibly showing it because _ fuck _that guy. Fuck that guy for assuming his business wasn‘t buzzing with potential clients, even if it was true. All the appointments Paco had left that day was a touch up at five, and then a date with his couch and a bad 90‘s horror flick. But no one knew that besides his cable provider. "I have a life too, you know." He didn‘t, but that was beside the point.

"Look-"

"No, you _ look. _ I‘m all booked for today. If I had any goddamn self respect I woulda thrown your ass out already, but because I feel like being a nice person today" _ (and because your brother is kinda hot and I can‘t wait to have an excuse to be alone with all those toned muscles) " _I can offer you two slots tomorrow, 11 am. I could do your brother right after." Paco winced at the innuendo in that sentence. He hadn‘t even looked at his time table, but he knew for a fact he had no plans tomorrow, so what the hell. Any excuse to look at handsome‘s face for a little while longer.

Dean squinted at him, and if Paco wasn‘t mistaken he said some weird shit like "Christo" under his breath, watching his eyes the whole time. Paco just raised his eyebrows and chose not to reply to this guy‘s weird speech. He wasn‘t here to analyze people and their quirks, even if he sometimes caught himself doing it anyways.

Dean seemed about ready to say something else, probably some bullshit, but his companion (brother? They didn‘t look related, but they sure acted like it) took that moment to stand up from his couch and showcase his impressive array of long limbs. Paco thought that the dictionary should have a pic of him printed on there, right next to 'eye candy'. The guy‘s eyes were stubbornly pointed a little sideways from his face.

"Okay," he said, in that exhausted tone of his. "We‘ll take it." Paco thought that if he had the chance to see this creature shirtless, it might be _ him _ paying for it. "Dean, we can crash at Bobby‘s for a while, right? No big deal. We can take a few days off." The look he gave Dean seemed to convey both ' _ shut the fuck up‘' _ and ' _ please let‘s take a few days off‘. _Definitely brothers. Dean took the bait and huffed, defeated.

"Still need a deposit for that, though," Paco remarked, just to be an asshole. He had the suspicion that neither of them had thought of that before they stumbled into his store, but rules were rules. How else was he supposed to run his business?

Dean squinted at him in bewilderment. "A _ deposit _? What the fuck for?"

Paco pursued his lips and shrugged, as dramatic and bitchy as possible. "Consider it a pre payment. For tomorrow, of course." Paco raised his eyebrows an obscene amount. "Tattooing is hard labor, you know." He could see the other guy look at him with the tiniest of smiles, not with his lips but with his eyes, all wrinkled and warm looks, appearing older than he most likely was. He felt honored. And also felt like drawing out a full on smile next time (if there was one).

Still with that slight almost smile on, guy just asked "How much?" in that open, tired way of his. Paco almost crumbled and told him that he‘d do it for free, but where would he be if he did every hot guy or girl that came in pro bono? In the streets, that‘s where, homeless and broke.

He felt for this kid, he truly did. He looked like he‘d been put through hell. Just his luck that his brother was one of the most insufferable bastards Paco had ever met. "Hundred bucks?"

"A _ hundred _ -? ... Jesus fuckin‘ _ christ." _ Dean swore a couple more times under his breath. Paco just let him stew in his grumpiness. "Screw it, fine, whatever. Tomorrow, 11 am. Got it." Dean said, not even bothering with a friendly handshake, slammed a few crumpled up dollars from his pocket on the desk, not even bothering to count it before he was waltzing back towards the exit and grabbing his very, very attractive brother to drag him off and out of reach. "Let‘s go, Sammy."

Sammy (Sam?) looked hesitant. "Should we-"

"Hey, I still need your-"

"See ya!" That‘s all he heard before the handle was pushed down and he saw two hunched back pairs of shoulders exiting his parlor. Paco had half the thought of running after them but decided against it. He hated cardio.

".... contact information," he finished his sentence in the blank space of the room, both bewildered and kinda intrigued. He had the feeling even if he went after them and asked, he would get nothing but a finger in his face. Did guys like that even own _phones_? He could hear the deafening sound of a car‘s engine rumbling back to life and driving off outside.

Ehhh, whatever. He would just have to wait and see if they actually showed up tomorrow, and if not he‘d chalk up this encounter as one of his crazier ones. God knows he had enough of those stories to fill a book. Paco chanced a look at the cash on his table: 75 dirty American dollars. They looked stolen from someone‘s purse. Close enough.

Who knows, maybe if he did a demon summoning or something, they would turn up.

* * *

Turns out, they did show up. Almost half an hour too late but hey, for the sleaziest motherfuckers Paco had ever met, that wasn't _ too _bad. He hadn't really felt the need to tweak with the design, something told him that the older guy wouldn't be too happy about him adding in an extra rose. Paco's expert and completely unbiased opinion told him that Sam would look with a rose.

In a completely unexpected turn of events, asshole older brother decided to go first. Because of course he did. Paco never got any fucking break.

"Alright, take off your shirt," he told him in the most uninterested tone possible. 

Somehow, the dude took offense even to that. "Hey, listen, I don't swing that way, you-"

"That's fine, you're not my type. But unless you feel like getting a tattoo on your t-shirt fabric, I'm gonna need you to expose your chest area." And, just because he felt like being an asshole, he winked at him. "Promise I'll leave your virginity intact." His professionalism was really taking a hit here, but for some reason he thought it unlikely that the dude would leave an angry MYSPACE review.

The process went by relatively fast, considering how much ink he had to push under the dude's skin and how awfully _ quiet _the parlor stayed in. Normally, people getting repeatedly stabbed with a bunch of needles tended to tell him any and every secret they could think of, raging from "I hate my neighbour" to "I accidentally farted on my boyfriend's cat and he found out and broke up with me". Typical daily life stuff.

But from this dude? Nothing. Nada. Except for the occasional "Christo", which Paco didn't even react to. But the tense muscles he could see told him all he needed to know. Not everyone's a verbal communicator. Once, when Paco had just started on the difficult spot right on top of the dude's nipple, he could practically _ feel _the blush forming underneath the skin. This type of stuff happened often, but the way Dean reacted felt a little too... forced. "Sorry," Paco said, the insistent noise from the needle machine drowning him out. "I know this is a sensitive spot."

The blush the dude was forming intensified by a thousand as he took a huge gulp of his own spit and mumbled out a barely constrained "'S fine". _ Somebody's got some internalized homophobia to deal with, huh. Too bad you're not my type and I'm trying to get into your brother's pants, otherwise I woulda helped. _Paco was nothing if not selfless when it came to lending someone a helping hand.

When it was done, the dude's skin a significant amount redder and Paco's hands more tired but relaxed, he brought out his handy dandy Tattoo spray and the dude looked at it in bewilderment. "What the-," he grunted out, like a very heterosexual bull. "Can't I just leave it like this or somethin'?"

Paco looked at him with his best bitch face and said: "If you want that shit to get infected, be my guest. But don't come crying to me about a touch up afterwards." That shut him up real fast.

When that was over and Dean was left stewing in his own blood and sweat, it was time for the real deal. Paco's palms suddenly started sweating like he was on his first date when he saw Sam in the waiting room, just... sitting there. Normally people would flip around his sketchbook, something to alleviate the boredom, but he was perfectly fine and perfectly still, staring off into space like he was trying to beam himself out of existence. Paco noticed and it creeped him the fuck out, and so did Dean but his reaction was understandably a lot different. More gentle.

Careful, like how one would try catching a startled bird, Dean put his palm reassuringly on his brother's shoulder. "Sammy?" he asked, and this whole ordeal suddenly felt a whole lot more intimate than what was comfortable for Paco. He felt bad for trying to get into a dude's pants who was so clearly traumatized. He knew that look, that sort of passive vacant stare. Just cuz the outside exterior seemed calm didn't mean that there wasn't a storm raging underneath. "Sammy, you in there? C'mon buddy, wake up. Sam."

The repeated use of his name was probably what made Sam snap out of it, that or the physical touch. When he reemerged from whatever nightmare had dragged him down into his subconscious, the first word he said was just a single syllable: "D?" There was so much desperation and exhaustion in just that one letter. Paco felt like an intruder in his own shop, and yet he couldn't stop watching what was unfolding in front of him.

Dean smiled, warm and open. It was the gentlest expression he'd seen on his face so far and the contrast was jarring. "Yeah, it's me." His asshole attitude earlier suddenly seemed a lot more an overprotective brother and less of a Devil May Care sorta guy. Because this guy _ clearly _cared so much it physically hurt. Paco got the impression that wouldn't change anytime soon.

Sam looked around in confusion. "Meg?" There was a lot of pain in that one word.

"Already dealt with, remember?" He gently knocked on Sam's head. Sam's answering full body shiver looked involuntarily. "Only one person in there, kay? It's good."

"I'll uhhh...," Paco stammered. It was the first he'd spoken since they had reentered the parlor and even those two words felt intrusive. Sam looked at him like he'd never seen him before, like he was the stranger here and not the other way around. "I'll let you two... do your thing and then I'll be... getting my place ready." With that, he bolted, away from the overswelling room and into the freedom of his backroom.

He couldn't hear them in here and it suddenly felt a lot easier to breathe. There was a reason Paco was a tattoo artist and not a fucking therapist. Someone's dirty laundry always left him feeling dirty himself. He was burdened with a terrible family mutation, and that mutation was empathy. Even when his mother and father had beaten the shit out of him, he still felt for them. His heart still bled for their suffering, way more than it bled for his own wounds. He couldn't afford to care for everyone.

It took them less than 15 minutes to sort everything out, it seemed, because after a while a big, shaggy brown haired giant started peaking his head in his room. Paco had been so deep into his own familial bullshit that he hadn't even noticed anyone sneaking up on him. "Jesus, fuck!" He cursed, startled.

"Sorry." Sam winced and looked at him apologetically before making his way to the reclining chair like he'd done this before. "Didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine...," Paco said, more out of breath the more of Sam's hulking form came into his view. This was his work, and he was nothing if not professional but _ damn _did he have good taste. "This your first time?" Paco only noticed his mistake when Sam's entire face started going tomato red. Blush suited him a lot more than it did his brother. "I, I mean your first tattoo?"

"Uhh..." It seemed for a second like Sam was really thinking about it, as if he had forgotten if he ever had gotten one done before. Okay, that was weird. "Yes? Yes."

Paco whistled. "So you decided that your first design would be some kinda demon summoning spell? I respect that."

Sam's mouth twitched as he pulled his grey shirt over his head. _ Don't look at his chest don't look don't look don't look _. "Banishment."

Damn him, Paco looked anyway. "Sorry?"

"It's a demon _ banishing _ sigil, actually." The dude just planted his huge gigantic limbs on top of his tattoo chair, and Paco had half a brain cell left not to think _ 'God I wish that were me' _ even though he really, really wanted to. His more prominent thoughts were _ 'okaaay..?' _ and _ 'What the fuck' _.

"So, uhh," his mind really wasn't working right right fucking now, "I'm gonna need to... get the area ready, okay? Shave it and stuff."

"Okay," was all Sam said before Paco's razer started gliding over his already pretty clean chest. It wouldn't really affect the tattoo's quality, other than hair getting stuck inside the needle machine hurt like a bitch. With his former client Paco hadn't really cared all that much if it hurt, but with him it was different.

"So," Paco started when he was done with that whole process and put on his gloves. "I take it you have a lot of demons followin' you around?" He did _ not _ want to know about that man's exes.

Sam started laughing, but it was a pained sort of laughter. "You got no idea."

* * *

The tattooing process was over before it'd even really begun. Damn his fast hands and his big needle machine. He had to stop every now and then to rest his hands, and also to let Sam come back to reality because the vacant sort of look in his eyes scared him a little. It wasn't dissociation, at least he didn't think so, because Sam was still responsive. It was almost like he'd decided to drive shotgun in his own skin and let Paco do whatever he wanted. The thought made him more sad than he'd like to admit.

They also had to stop from time to time because a certain over protective brother would not stop barging in to presumably check if Paco had hurt Sam yet, always with some variation of a loud "Sammy, you okay in there?". The first time it'd happened, Sam had just looked at him apologetically and shrugged.

"He gets like that sometimes," was all the answer Paco got, which was fine if it didn't happen everytime him and Sam had just started up a conversation. Turns out, Sam was not only fine as hell but also pretty smart. They talked about anything and everything, everything _ but _their private lifes, which was just fine by Paco. He didn't need to know everyone's tragic backstory, even though in this instance he really wanted to.

When it was all over and done with, and his wallet a significant amount heavier, him and Sam managed to exchange a few fleeting glances in each other's direction. They would've talked if it wasn't for Dean's bulldozing, big dick attitude that made Paco want to break some faces. He could tell that Sam also wasn't too fond of Dean's mothering, but didn't have the heart to tell him off. Typical sibling behavior, amplified by a thousand.

When he was talking to them about aftercare, which creams to use and to never, ever put scented soap on an open wound like that, he could tell Sam was the only one who really paid attention. He didn't have a single doubt in his mind that Sam's tattoo would heal out quite nicely, Dean's on the other hand? Probably clean up to be patchy and scarred in a month or two, and Paco couldn't bring himself to care about that, given that he would never ever see these people again. Which was just fine. Totally fucking fine.


	2. II.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam finally gets that date. Paco gets some waffles.

It surprised him more than he'd like to admit when a certain someone decided to visit him again that day, this time way in the evening, right after Paco had just closed his shop and was ready to go home.

"Hey, you there," he said to the figure standing in front of his shop. He sounded stupid and not at all as suave as he'd like to be, but it was all he could think of saying in that moment while looking at Sam.

Because, after Sam had shifted his body and angled it more towards the light, Paco could see just how _ wrecked _the boy looked. Dark circles under his eyes that sure, had been there before, but now looked even more pronounced. That tired expression was back as well. He looked like he could barely hold himself up on his feet.

"Sorry," Sam mumbled into his chest, still with that fucking apologizing. "I didn't mean to wait outside the shop like some sort of creep..." He sounded half ready to bounce the fuck outta here. Paco _ really _didn't want him to.

Truth be told, Paco hadn't even thought of it like that. With anyone else? Yeah, he'd be creeped the fuck out. As it was, all he needed now was a drink. "Dude, it's fine," he said, waving him off. "Didn't feel like going home immediately, anyways. Get kinda restless at night." That sentence looked like it hit its mark, Sam suddenly a whole lot more relaxed and less likely to bolt. And then, just for the hell of it, he went a little further and added: "As long as you buy the first round."

Sam's lips turned upward, but it seemed more like a grimace than a true, heartfelt smile. "Sure... okay. Where to?"

To be fair, Paco didn't really have any freaking clue which kind of establishment Sam liked best, so he just picked his own favorite greasy bar. All the while trying really hard not to think of this as a date, because it wasn't. Totally.

"So," he started, after about 10 minutes of absolute silent walking towards their destination. He'd thought maybe Sam would explain why the guy was here in the first place, but so far no dice. "Not that I'm not happy that you lingered in front of _ my _shop of all places, but I really don't think the area's stroll worthy. So, how come?"

Sam started walking faster, and Paco almost had to run to keep up with him. Tall guys and their dumb, sexy, long ass legs. Not fair. "Dunno," he admitted quietly, shrugging his overgrown shoulders. Paco really wanted to get a feel for those shoulders. "Had a fight with-," he laughed, a bitter laugh, "with my brother, you know. Didn't really feel like being around him, and" _ I didn't want to be alone, _"You seemed nice, earlier. Thought you probably know the area better than me."

Paco grinned triumphantly. Close enough. "You guessed right, boy scout. I know every dirty little part of this shit hole." Okay, that was a little far stretched, but who exactly would call his bluff? But, just the thought of a pissed off older brother out there somewhere, stewing in his own feelings, made his finger twitch. "But, just so we're clear, I'm not in danger of getting my head bashed in by your older bro, right?

Sam winced. "I don't think so. Sorry. He just-"

"Gets like that, yeah." Paco couldn't really judge, not like he had any siblings who'd been willing to step up for him. Which was just fine, it was how he managed to crawl himself out of the gutter, all on his own at 16. But it also meant that he was more lonely than most, and had a tendency to self isolate himself. "Can't say I relate. Don't got any siblings."

Sam's head peaked up at the chance to divert the attention away from himself. "Oh, really?" Suddenly he seemed like the most attentive listener. Something told Paco that he'd been doing exactly that for a while now, and it'd always worked out fine for him. He wasn't sure if he should call him out on his bullshit, or let him. Can't say that he couldn't relate, exactly.

"Nah, dear ol' mom and dad only had me, and even that was too much for them." Sometimes Paco wondered why the most people he knew who absolutely despised children, always decided to get some of their own. And even when it hadn't been planned, there was always the adoption route. Did these people think they could've taught their children in a way no one else could? All Paco's parents had taught him was how to pick a lock and duck effectively. And even those two had been more or less unintentional.

It was clear the guy next to him didn't really know how to respond to the huge bombshell he'd just dropped on him, so it was just his luck that at that moment the fluorescent lights of a bar appeared in front of them. "MIKE'S SHIT HOLE" it read.

"Really?"

Paco shrugged, holding his hands up in the air as he was making his way towards a door that probably had more splashes of bodily fluid plastering the wood than it did paint. "Hey, I hate false advertising. This way you know exactly what you're gettin' before you even walk inside." Holding open the door for him, their shoulders touched for the briefest of moments. It wasn't like electricity, not exactly, it was more like catching a burn mark and the flame engulfing his entire body in just a few minutes. He felt light headed and giddy. Sure, that might've also been due to the constant smoke coming at them from every direction, humid and hot. A combination of both, maybe.

Sam took a few moments to look around the joint. "It's..." Outside it looked exactly like any other bar, but inside a thousand little light bulbs opened up the whole place. The lights mixed with the smoke made it seem almost ethereal. He _ really _didn't want to have to pay for the electricity bill for this joint, but it was a nice touch. It was almost like its own little bubble in town full of hardships.

"I know," Paco said, already making his way towards the bar while his partner for the night was still staring at the pretty lights. He didn't ask Sam what he wanted before he ordered him the cheapest beer. Something told him he'd hit the jackpot with that one.

"Wasn't I supposed to buy the first round?" Sam asked curiously while planting his sweet, sweet ass (hideously covered by _ those _jeans) on a bar stool.

"Oh, don't worry, there'll be plenty of time for you to lose some money," he said. Truth be told, Sam didn't really look like the kind of guy who could buy a stranger a drink. And Paco didn't really feel like buying his first drink of the day with a few 20's from some poor lady's purse.

The next few minutes were spent just wordlessly sipping their drinks, and for Paco it felt a little like Sam even struggled to find _ anything _to chat about. He got the feeling the dude didn't do this type of thing, whether that be platonic or something more, very often. Which was a surprise, given how attractive he was. Sadly for him, Paco didn't do this often, either. So they were both shit out of luck.

"So... what do you do?" Was that what people asked during these types of things? He was basically just spitballing here.

From Sam's reaction, that seemed to have been the exact _ worse _thing he could have called. He looked down at his drink and started fiddling with his fingers anxiously. "Don't," he said, almost inaudible from the noise around them. "Then I won't have to lie." Inside Paco's mind two anxious caricatures of men in suits were banging pots and pans together and yelling out different worst case scenarios. He had to admit, 'hired assassin' certainly had style.

Paco bit his lip, something he always did when he was nervous, and looked around the room. "Okaay... Umm... More important question: What inspired you to get _ that _as your first tatt? Also not on a typical place either."

Sam smiled, shy and warm. If he hadn't paid attention he would have missed it. Paco had the idea that most people didn't really pay attention. "What's a typical place, then?"

"I mean... depends, really. Most people go for the upper arm. Ankle's also pretty popular." He shrugged. "Tattoo virgins tend to go for the spots that they think hurt less. Sucks for them, because the ankles hurt like a bitch."

Sam raised his eyebrows in mock disbelief. "I wouldn't say yesterday was the worst pain I've ever felt. Not even in the top ten."

Now it was his turn to truly be surprised, because _ damn. _Sure, chest area always hurt more when you were a chick, but even with a guy with that amount of... muscle, that oughta sting quite a bit. "Do I even want to know?"

For a minute there it looked like the sheer amount of stories he had stored up in his brain was a little overwhelming for Sam, and he'd just try to find one that was as minally incriminating and still entertaining as possible. Paco hadn't forgotten the sight of the vast area of scar tissue littered all over this way too young body, he'd just chosen to respectfully ignore it. You didn't ask someone about their scars, you let them come to you. God knows he had his fair share. The nastiest ones were almost always the most idiotic ones, too.

What Sam settled on after a while was this: "Have you ever gotten a femoral fracture?"

"A _ what? _What the fuck does that mean?"

He grinned, seemingly opening up more and more. It was a good look on him. "The bone in your thigh," he patted his own, seemingly previously injured oned, to hammer the point home, "Your femur. It takes a lot, and I mean, a _ lot _ to break the bone in your upper thigh and once it's broken you're basically screwed. Only happens in extreme circumstances, like car crashes. Now imagine..." He took a long gulp of air, as if that alone brought up memories. "Imagine trying to explain to the drill sergeant you call father that you can't even get out of bed, let alone train. Or... work."

Paco whistled, impressed & curiosity sated. "How'd you get it, then? Car crash?"

"Werewolf," he shrugged, as if that was the most plausible thing he'd said all evening. Sure. Werewolves, huh. Those will really... do a number on you.

"Uhuh," he said, suddenly the image of Sam appeared in his mind. Sam wrestling an enormous, hairy naked man. He would've paid to see that. "You still haven't answered my question, though. Why that specific design? You can't have _ that _many demons after your ass."

Sam flinched, barely visible, before he went back to normal. Suddenly he felt like the biggest asshole. Fuck him and his stupid smart ass. "It's..." Sam was evidently fighting for words inside his head. "... metaphorical. I had a... heh, bad weekend, you could say."

There he went with that vacant stare again. Suddenly the puzzle pieces all fell together, Paco really should've seen the signs. The overprotective brother, the dissociation. The constant apologizing, _ guilt. _ There was an uncomfortable lump forming in his throat that he couldn't swallow down no matter how hard he tried. It felt like he couldn't breathe. Not it was his turn to fight for the right words. "Sam..." _ Are you okay? _What a stupid question. Of course he fucking wasn't. You never were okay after an encounter like that. So instead he settled on: "What can I do?"

Sam looked to him, ripped from his apparent train of thought, and smiled at him as if he was crazy. "You? Nothing, I'm fine." _ Yeah. Fucking sure. You're just dandy. _"It's not... what you think. Not that."

"That?"

Sam waved him off, as if _ rape _ was the most trivial subject ever. "No one cornered me in a dark alley. Held a gun to my head. The whole thing." Sure, if you didn't look too closely, you could almost ignore the cracks in his visage. Almost. Paco had spent his entire youth doing just that. Ignorance & denial were a powerful tool if you knew how to wield them to your advantage. You couldn't be traumatised if you'd _ wanted it _ , all along. Your parents weren't beating the shit out of you if you called it a mutual fight in your head. You weren't homeless if you'd _ chosen _ to be. Take everything life throws at you and _ own it. _Even the bad, absolute worst parts of your life. The Paco back then had called it acceptance, the Paco now called it bullshit.

This whole conversation was like looking into a mirror of his past. He didn't like it. "Look, it doesn't have to be... life-or-death to be bad. Or, you know... forced." The guy next to him looked as if he'd just given him the biggest, hardest to swallow pill in his life. Maybe he had. Maybe he'd just forced him to reevaluate every single one of his sexual encounters. "Ignoring it won't make it go away."

Right on time, a phone started ringing obnoxiously. It startled Sam so much that he almost fell from his seat, and to make matters worse it wasn't Paco's phone. "Speak of the devil?" Paco supplied.

Sam winced when he fished the offending device out of his back pocket. Damn, was he glad not to have any siblings. "He won't stop calling," he complained while hitting decline. "It's like, he wants me to be okay so bad... But he doesn't wanna _ talk _ about it either... And he still treats me like a freakin' baby. I'm _ not _a baby!"

Paco grinned, despite himself, at the sheer hypocrisy of that statement. "Obviously," he said, nursing his beer.

"Yes! _ Obviously _ !" Sam waved his arms in the air in an over exaggerated way. "I don't even... remember most of it..." _ Woops _. Didn't look like he'd meant to say just that, from his panicked reaction.

Paco was just about to reassure him, when his voice was rudely overshadowed by the dude's at the pool table. Paco's brain was one brain cell short of actively _ understanding _ what they were saying, he'd so far successfully ignored everyone around them. But still, the shrill and loud interruption jarred him. They were 3 well toned, muscled guys who looked to be a drink and a half short of blackout drunk, hollering on and on about how hot the waitress was.

Paco really hated straight people and their obnoxious displays of their disgusting sexuality in _ his _favorite joint. He was about so say as much when he noticed the expression on Sam's face. His hands were balled into fists at his side, he still hadn't taken more than a sip of his beer, and his shoulders were tense, as if he was desperately repressing the urge to flee. Every part of his body screamed panic, and Paco had no idea why.

"Sam, you okay?" He asked just as one of the annoying apes at the pool table started loudly recounting a thrilling tale of how apparently every woman he'd ever met had _ wanted it _. If Paco was a little less at a disadvantage here he would've told the guy just what he thought of that particular statement.

Paco's thigh brushed Sam's. Big mistake. With not even so much as a "Gotta go" did Sam suddenly bolt upright and flee the scene, while leaving a very confused Paco and still very full bottle of american pisswater behind. 

Shit. Shit shit _ fuck. _Paco had barely enough brain cells left to slap a couple bucks on the counter before taking up pursuit.

* * *

He found him lurking around the trash cans. Because of course he fucking did.

The look in Sam’s eyes was wild when he spun around to face Paco. Sneaking up almost earned him a hook to the hand, but Paco was nothing if not prepared for abuse at all times, so he dodged out Sam’s swinging range just fine.

“Woah,” he said, holding his hand up in the air in a show of surrender. He really picked the most damaged people, huh. _ Takes one to know one. _

It took Sam a couple minutes to descend down to earth but when he did, his expression was nothing if not apologetic. “I’m so-”

Paco already knew where that sentence was leading, and he didn’t wanna hear any of it. “Can it. Don’t need an apology for that.” He grinned up at him. “Didn’t knock out any of my teeth, so. I’m good.” He was, really. He didn’t know what it was, but Paco had a knack for the abused and tortured. The fucked up made him feel right at home. It was why he frequented these types of bars, too. Normalcy, a pleasant well mannered date? Made his skin crawl.

“We shouldn’t do this.” Sam’s fingers kept fidgeting on the hem of his flannel, like they didn’t know what to do with themselves. Paco had a few ideas about those hands. But not now.

“Do what?”

Sam gestured around them, around the darkness. “This. I didn’t mean to… to go on a date. I’m-” He was clearly fighting for words here. “I’m not-”

Paco almost rolled his eyes. Great. Closet case. “Gay?”

Sam just shook his head. “Normal. I’m not normal.” The way he said it, with absolute finality, made him think that to Sam ‘normal’ was a deal breaker. Normal was the measure with which he defined his entire existence, his every move. Exhausting way to live.

Paco called bullshit on that.

“You think I’m fucking white picket fence material?” Paco made wide sweeping gestures with his arms, his _ tattooed _ arms, but always making sure not to crowd into the other man’s space. He reallydidn’t want his head kicked in. “You think this town is _ normal _ ? The bar? Nothing about any of this screams fucking normal, Sam.”

It was obvious Sam still wasn’t convinced, was trying to prove his point. “You remember my brother, from before? Dean? We’ve been on the road since I was a baby.”

Paco whistled. “I love road trips.”

Sam winced. “Yeah, not ones where you have to go on the run from the law, though. Not ones that never _ stop _.”

Yeah, okay, that sucked. Paco couldn’t imagine being on the road 24/7. Always in motels, or rest stops. Or shady tattoo parlors, right across town.

“I- hurt someone,” Sam said, almost whispered every word individually. The way he said it, right there next to the dirty dripping trash cans, like _ hurt _ wasn’t the only thing he did. Paco shuddered, underneath his jacket and shirt, all the way to his bones. Okay. Kay.

Paco really just asked out a killer, huh. He really went and did that. Marvelous.

But Sam was nice. Sam opened the door for people, Sam made himself appear smaller to be less intimidating. Sam, who didn’t like to be touched. Sam who’d obviously been raped, or coerced, or manipulated into something. Anything. That Sam.

That Sam couldn’t be a killer in Paco’s mind, he just couldn’t. His brain refused to connect those two dots. Error 404. 

He exhaled a shaky breath. Sam was looking at him the way a man stares at the wrong end of a gun. He refused to be a weapon for this man’s self hatred.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Sam exclaimed, dumbfounded. “_Okay _?”

“Sam, why did you come to me? Why’d you hang around my parlor, in the middle of the night? To…” He swallowed. “Hurt me?”

Sam looked guilty. “No…,” he murmured, with the kind of bleeding heart sincerity that Paco could fall for. “I don’t actually… know my way around town. At all. And I needed to kill time until morning, so I just thought… hey, why not take a look at your sketchbooks for a little while?”

Paco looked at him dumbfounded. “We close at 9.”

The giant in front of him almost looked sheepish at that. “I know…”

Wow. He really just went on a date with a guy who’d originally wanted to, if not rob, then at least break into his place. Willingly. And for some ungodly reason, that didn’t make Sam less attractive or Paco less intrigued.

“Wow. Okay, calling it now,” He clapped his hands. “After that, not only do you owe me a beer, but you also owe me dinner. Waffles, I’m dying for some good waffles right now.” He was already making his way out of the trash yard he called his favorite bar, not even bothering to wait for a response. “You comin’?”

Sam looked at him as if he’d just grown a second head. “Shouldn’t we- I mean, shouldn’t you - Leave?”

Paco just shrugged. “Not really. Told you, got nothing else on for the rest of the day. And I’m never one to pass up 2 am waffle time.”

Sam didn’t need more persuading to follow him after that.

* * *

So that’s how Paco ended up telling a virtual stranger his life story in Macy’s Waffle house, open 24 hours all day every day. The waffles were pretty sweet, too. Sam even got him 2, as well as that beer. He felt spoiled rotten.

Sam, meanwhile ‘wasn’t hungry’, but still was nursing his coke light from time to time. The conversation felt good. Warm. If he was any other person Paco would have called the whole thing romantic. But he wasn’t. Didn’t negate the fact that they were sitting pretty close, though. And that they were the only customers around at this ungodly hour.

“So,” Paco muffled, mouth full of gluten and maple syrup, “What you killing time for?”

Sam looked at him sideways. “What?”

“What you said earlier - ‘needed to kill time until morning’ - for what? What’s in a couple hours that requires you not sleeping and walking these streets?”

Sam laughed, but he could tell he was nervous. Panicked, almost. Shit. Paco didn’t want him panicked, he wanted him soft again. Like before. He wanted his thigh brushing his again.

“Hey, if you got some other hot date at 6am, that’s fine by me,” he replied, to lighten the mood. “You … look like you got a handful. Your phone must be _ ringing _, man.” Lowkey calling the man next to you attractive as fuck. Sly, Paco. Patted himself on the back for that one.

Sam seemed to get the hint, because he started blushing like crazy. Not overt blushing, no, the kind that you can barely see, but still there. His favorite kind of blush.

That was only a second, though. As soon as his happiness was there it was gone again, gone with the wind. Replaced with a sad sort of look. “I haven’t actually gone on any dates. In a while. In a _ long _while. I don’t really… socialize.”

Paco swallowed. Felt like he’d won the jackpot. “You _ do _talk to your brother, though right? You guys don’t just... stare at each other for 15 hours on the road from across the steering wheel, right?”

“Yeah, a word every couple miles,” Sam replied, flashing him a smile. Paco could fall right into that smile. He almost did, when he noticed how much closer they’d gotten on that bench of theirs. Sam seemed to notice, too, his eyes making their way a little south. “An occasional grunt.”

Paco hummed, licking his sugary lips in an obvious attention grabbing show off. He almost hoped Sam would take the bait. But of course he didn’t. Just handed him his napkin. Gentleman. “Oh, thanks.” He smiled up at Sam’s eyes. “Sticky.”

Sam coughed. Paco grinned. Round and round they went.

“About earlier…,” Sam started, clearly uncomfortable but trying. He appreciated the effort. “I don’t have a date. Not really. It’s just, that uhh…” He coughed, took a sip of his coke. His face looked significantly more red.

“Yeah?” Spit it out, already.

The next few words were spoken so fast Paco almost could mistake them for one long word. But there they were. “It’s just that the free clinic doesn’t open until 8.” The elephant in the room. Oh. So that’s that, then.

The whiplash from that sentence only lasted a second, a few breaths of Paco being an asshole, before he remembered himself and his vow never to judge anyone for shit like that, ever. Fuck knows how many scares _ he _had. Sometimes shit just happened.

“Good for you.” So he took a sip of his beer, and just went right back to his still warm food.

Sam didn’t seem to get it. “Good ... for … me?”

Paco just shrugged. “Yeah, good on you for taking your health into your own hands ‘n shit. Look, I’m the last person to judge someone for _ that _. I go do my regular check ups, too. Sometimes shit just happens in the spur of the moment,” He kept trying to articulate it with his hands, but the gesture just seemed awkward. “That’s not… planned, you know? Or… other stuff.” Shit. He just remembered. Before.

_ ‘I don’t even remember most of it.'_

_'No one held a gun to my head.’ _

Shit. That fucking _ sucked _, man. Did this man never catch a goddamn break.

“Yeah,” Sam just replied, looking deflated. “Other stuff. Yeah.”

He winced. “Hey, I didn’t mean-”

Sam’s mouth said “it’s fine” but his body language said something else, said that he had his chance and blew it. And that the walls were going back up.

So he did the only thing he could do, felt like he wanted to do, which was take this man’s hand. This beautiful, poor man’s right hand. It was rough, but also warm and impossibly large under his tiny one.

Sam clenched up like hit, almost looked ready to bounce, before he relaxed visibly. Like all the air just went out of him. He sighed, looked at their joined hands on the table, then back up at Paco. Eyes going south again.

And fuck it, just because he wanted to, because Sam was obviously thinking about it too, he went ahead and used the leverage he had to go all up in Sam’s business and kiss him. Just once. Lightly, barely there. Kindergarten kisses. His upper lip connecting with Sam’s lower one and pushing just slightly. He could feel slight stubble on his lower lip.

But that was enough. It was enough.

It was over as soon as it started, he made sure of it, drawing back almost immediately and giving his date his safe space back. Sam, for all his efforts, seemed to be out of the count, blinking like he’d just been hit in the face. Staring into space and then staring into him.

“It’s okay, Sam,” he said, squeezed his hand. Sam squeezed back, said nothing.

* * *

After Paco had wolfed down his early breakfast and Sam had handed the grumpy waitress a generous tip, they decided to just take a walk. Anywhere and nowhere. Just how they both liked it.

Paco kept kicking stones in front of them. Whenever one rounded on Sam, he did the same. It felt domestic and made them both feel all fuzzy inside.

After that first kiss, it was almost as if a waterfall of words had been unleashed in Sam. Like he almost couldn’t wait to get all the words out he’d kept in. Paco didn’t want to know how long he had needed this, exactly this. Complete non judgement.

“My brother, he knows what happened was fucked up, don’t get me wrong. He loves me. Would kill for me, without a moment’s hesitation, and I would lay down my life for him. But we… We both don’t really know how to talk to each other about things like this.” Sam sniffed, glanced sideways. “Physical injury, that’s fine. Emotional baggage? That shit’s different. Dean’s allergic to talking about his feelings and I… I don’t wanna burden anyone.”

Paco was ready to clip in at that, tell his self hate off, but Sam just looked at him, mouthed ‘I know’ and smiled. So he knew that mindset was unhealthy, but was helpless to stop old patterns from repeating. At least he knew it was wrong, So Paco felt satisfied.

“Getting drugged for a whole week by a couple sick bastards’s no joke. That shit will eat you up inside if you don’t talk to anyone from time to time,” he replied. Sam’s mouth did a weird little twitch at the mention of ‘drugged’, Paco didn’t know what that meant, but he also didn’t wanna ask. Maybe he hadn’t considered it getting roofied before. But Paco sure as hell did.

“Just one...,” he said, playing with the loose threads hanging from his shirt. “Most of the week. I think. The other ones… I’m not sure. It’s all - fuzzy. In my head. Like cotton. I can’t remember faces, but I can acutely remember smells, or places. Voices.” _ Touches _. They both heard the addition, even though it hadn’t been said out loud.

Sam sighed, stopped their walk to look up at the horizon and early morning sun. “Dean doesn’t know about it. I just told him I can’t remember anything, like I was asleep, and he took it. Or he didn’t ask me about it anymore. ‘S why I couldn’t be at home before this, because he’d just take one look at me and know where I was going. Dean _ can’t _ know… It’s not his to bare.” He laughed. “Fuck, if he found out about this night… I mean, someone in his orbit not being a 100% macho straight male? Impossible.” Paco wanted to say something, something like ‘you sure about that’, remembering the tattoo session, but he kept his mouth shut. Sam just went on, anyways. “He tries, though. In his way.” Sam smiled up at the sunrise. “He was the one who found and picked out the tattoos for us.”

“Knew it,” Paco murmured. Sam gave him a questioning sideways glance, eyebrows up. “No offense, but that design looked way too shady to be something _ you _picked out. You seem more like the intricate type.” Paco could imagine Sam in a handful of tattoos, he really could. Snakes, crawling around and over his arm. Or hell, flowers. Sam would look good covered in flowers.

The man next to him turned his gaze back down and grinned, all shy but still flirting. “Is that so?” Damn him.

Paco’s stomach started growing warmer and warmer, until it was almost unbearable. His mouth started watering, making him swallow thickly.

“Sam?”

“Hmm?” He tilted his head, curious.

“Would you punch me if I kissed you again.”

Sam chuckled, and all in one fluid motion taking a step closer. They were so close now, here at the end of the world, Sioux Falls. Watching the fucking sunrise together. Sam’s smell hit him, all the smells of the road rolled into one fleshy man on the sidewalk. 

“Honestly,” he whispered, conspicuously. “I’d punch you if you didn’t.”

So Paco did. He didn’t wanna get socked, after all.

* * *

Sam was a pretty good kisser. Almost too good, in fact. Like children, they kept stopping every couple steps on their way to the clinic, locking lips again.

Paco kissed like his life depended on it. Sam kissed like a man waking up from a coma who needed to relearn every swipe of his tongue. It was good, though. All soft and cute. No sharp edges. Paco felt like a girl being courted, and he liked it.

It being at ass o’clock gave them the liberty to not give a shit about the environment they were in, confident that no early morning birds would object to their public displays. And if they did, between the both of them, they’d take them down easy.

They parted ways a few steps from the just now opening clinic, a place Paco had been to many times before and knew the stress of going in. He took Sam’s shaking hand.

“I can come with, you know,” he tried, but Sam just smiled at him in gratitude but ultimately shook his head.

“I need to do this alone. I’ve been through worse.” He chuckled sadly. “Way worse. Believe me.”

Paco took his other hand in his, squeezed them both tightly for good measure. “Sam,” he warned, on edge. “That doesn’t help.” Just because he’d been through the meat grinder before, and had been in a car accident with a fucking werewolf, it didn’t make this any more easier. Any less anxiety inducing.

“Sorry.”

Paco growled. “Don’t apologize for that.”

“Sorry.” Sam just flashed him one of those million dollar puppy dog smiles of his, and all the anger and frustration went out of him. Paco sighed. He was fighting a losing battle, he knew that. There was nothing about this whole encounter that didn’t tell him that he would ever see the other man again after this night. In a couple hours, Sam would probably be back in that damned passenger’s seat, looking out the window and listening to classic rock as if nothing happened. As if he was all fine. Paco knew those types of men, had dated a couple of them.

Which was why he took out the piece of paper with his number scribbled on it from his back pocket. He’d written it way back when Sam first came into his parlor. He’d get it now.

“Take it,” Paco said at Sam’s disbelieving look. “Throw it in the trash if you have to. Wanted to give it to you when your shithead brother first barged into my store. Been weighing down my pocket ever since.”

Sam took the note, incredulously. Paco felt like he’d just won a battle and felt like celebrating, so he kissed him again. Took his lower lip in his mouth and sucked on it a little. Sam’s knees buckled, the big huge veiny _ sexy _pieces of limbs he called hands taking a hold of Paco’s waist. Sam faltered slightly at the feeling of Paco’s tongue tracing his lips, but he followed the lead like a champ.

It wasn’t the best kiss Paco’d ever had, not by far, but it was the best in this moment that he wanted to experience. Sam’s tongue was soft and warm against his, almost tiny compared to the rest of him. 

They parted after a while of going at it like that, legs and arms intertwined an impossible amount. Paco did the manly thing and detached himself completely at the sight of Sam’s flushed face.

They weren’t here to have a quickie in the free clinic’s parking lot. No matter how much their respective boners were screaming at them to. Sam had important shit to take care of.

At the sight of the clinic, his walls went back up, and suddenly they were back at square one. Sam looked as good as ever. “Gotta go,” Sam breathed out, then nodded. “I’ll text you.”

Paco smiled sadly. He almost believed that. “Sure. Don’t sweat it.”

And with that he was off, leaving Paco, still rock hard but also sad now, in the parking lot. His nostrils filled with the smell of shit again, instead of the smell of _ Sam _ . He forced himself to inhale it deeply, like cigarette smoke, to metaphorically cast him out of his mind. And then he went home, to his tiny empty apartment all the way over town.

* * *

> **NEW MESSAGES FROM: UNKOWN NUMBER**
> 
> _ 10:23 am _ _ hey _
> 
> _10:30 am _ _this is sam, btw. the one you gave your number to?_
> 
> _ 10:31 am _ _ the guy with the satanic tattoo, remember? :) _
> 
> ** _11:02 am _ _Oh shit - hey sam! sorry, fell asleep on my couch. now my neck hurts like a bitch. where r u?_ **
> 
> _ 11:05 am _ _ outside irvine, california. it’s 2 bright here. _
> 
> ** _11:11 am _ _hah, i bet. did you settle everything you meant to back in sioux falls?_ **
> 
> _ 11:13 am _ _ yeah. let some girl poke me. _
> 
> _ 11:14 am _ _ results won’t come in til next week, though _
> 
> _ 11:15 am _ _ they’ll call _
> 
> **_11:15 am __shit i’m sorry - you ok w/ that?_**
> 
> _ 11:18 am _ _ jep. got us a job here, me & my brother. so i won’t just be sitting ducks until then. _
> 
> _ 11:20 am _ _ gotta go _
> 
> ** _11:22 am _ _nice! sure, have a good day ;)_ **
> 
> ** _11:30 am _ _& sam? call me, once u get it. or text me. i know how hard it is to deal w/ that on ur own. i’ll be here._**
> 
> ** _12:02 am _ _you don’t have to go through this alone. and if shit hits the fan, i’ve got a nice comfortable bed here that’s big enough for two :) and a shit load of booze._ **
> 
> _ 10:25 pm _ _ thanks_

* * *

He got a call a little over a week over that, right while talking to a client. Interrupting a session wasn’t that big of a deal, but it was something he tended to avoid whenever possible. But one look at his phone, at that unknown phone that by now had been saved as “sam”, and he quickly told the girl to sit tight and that he’d be right back. Other than those first couple messages, Sam had just been ignoring his messages, and Paco sometimes felt like shouting into a void. Now he didn’t know what to do.

He sprint walked towards his back room, sweating along the way. His phone kept ringing. He felt way too underqualified right about now.

“Shit shit _shit_ shitty shit please let it be negative let it be negative let it be- HEY, Sam!” That sounded way too fucking cheery for the occasion. Paco winced.

The silence that followed, and the shaky exhale on the other line, told him all he needed to know.

“What did they say?” Paco asked, professional face back on. He gripped the phone impossibly tight.

“Nothing,” came the muffled reply.

Paco didn’t understand. “Nothing? What do you mean? Did they just breathe into your ear or what?” He sounded irritated, he couldn’t help it. This whole ordeal was nerve wracking.

“No, I mean…” Sam stopped. Tried to start again, then stopped again.

“Sam, breathe,” Paco warned him. “Where are you?” He was already mentally looking for his keys.

The man on the other liner ignored the question entirely. “I mean they called me, right before I called you. They rang. They called while I was with- while I wasn’t alone, and I just. I panicked and hung up.”

_ What?! _

“Sam,” his voice sounded stern.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but hang up right the fuck now and call those doctors back.” He smiled, even if the other person couldn’t see it. “You can do this.”

Sam let out another breathy exhale, something which seemed to say ‘will you leave?’ and ‘do I have to?’ right at the same time.

Paco hung up for him and then placed down the phone on his lap. And waited. And waited.

His phone remained silent.

It took more than half an hour for it to ring back to life, but not with a call request this time but with a new text message.

> ** **(1) NEW MESSAGE FROM: SAM** **
> 
> _ 3:13 pm _ _ i’m - . in every sense of the word. completely clean. _

Paco’s whole body sagged onto his chair in relief. It felt like he’d just run a marathon. It took him an embarrassing amount of time to reply to that single brief text.

> **_3:25 pm _ _🥳🎉_**
> 
> ** _3:26 pm _ _shit sorry - those were meant to be emojis._**
> 
> ** _3:27 pm _ _but congratz, man! what u gonna do now? celebrate?_ **
> 
> _ 3:30 pm _ _ my brother’s in the other room. i’m… in the bathroom. _
> 
> _ 3:31 pm _ _ can’t really talk right now, sorry. gotta go back 2 work. _
> 
> ** _3:31 pm _ _?_ **
> 
> ** _3:32 pm _ _i mean sure?_ **
> 
> _ 3:36 pm _ _ thanks. for everything. sorry for bothering u with my shit. _
> 
> ** _3:36 pm _ _hey u know how i feel about that_ **
> 
> ** _3:45 pm _ _sam?_ **
> 
> ** _3:48 pm _ _are u really just gonna ghost me after that?_ **  
** _4:01 pm _ _Fine. thanks 4 letting me know. let me know if you’re ever back in town. bye sam. it was nice meeting you._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this whole thing just started cuz I wanted to explore the thought of sam having to take an std test after one of his many possessions, and all the while hiding it from dean and feeling guilty about it. and then I thought, hey! Why not make a fanfic out of that?  
And now it's almost as late as it was when Sam got tested and I'm TIRED  
Edit: also it's my headcanon that while this is tagged as referenced rape, sam doesn't really *know* if that's what happened. he just has a lot of confusing, confusing flashes of memory floating around in his brain, and his go to reaction is huh. Well. Better get that shit looked at.


End file.
